Rebirth of a star
by Heidinanookie
Summary: How might Castiel re-enter the story after the events of 7x01?  SPOILERS if you haven't seen that ep yet! Please R&R.


**Rebirth of a star**

Somewhere, deep below the water, near the bottom of the lake, all was darkness. Icy cold stillness, endless, sightless, velvety black. But then a day came when a tiny light appeared there, pulsing feebly against the boundaries of the eternal night encasing it. It was no bigger than the size of a pin's head. Surely it would be winking out again soon, chocked by the heavy pressure of the dark. And so it was. The light disappeared. The water was quiet again, resting in itself.

However, a little time later, or maybe an eternity, the spark returned, brighter than the last time but still insignificantly small. It spilled its warm golden light, bled it out into the water until there was nothing left but darkness again.

The third time it appeared, the light began to pulse and expand, unfolding like the petals of a flower that opened to the deep, steady drum-roll of a beating heart, refusing to be doused and squashed by the floods yet again. It started to take shape also. Water flowed around its form, being displaced for the first time in what seemed like forever and a day. The water churned and roiled, protesting the gentle insistence for room the growing figure of light put up.

This time, the light would not be stopped, though. When the shape was fully formed, its pale skin shone through the deep night, lit from within still by the spark it had grown from. It swayed in the current, drifting weightlessly like a sky lantern or a star in the void between the galaxies. Dark hair waved like sheared sea grass in the tide. It also had a face, emerging gradually out of the blackness. The tip of a nose, softly curved lips, angular cheek bones, closed eye lids. The irises behind them would be blue.

It has a name. "Castiel." A whisper runs through the water then, a shiver, both anxiety and joy, fear and awe. This cannot be. It defies the laws laid down by the creators of the universe. The water tries to rush in again, crush this thing that has appeared in its midst back into non-existence but the creature is already too solid, too real to budge. Still: it remains unaware.

If it cannot be crushed, it can yet be drowned. Patience and time will do the work. This body, though curled up like an embryo floating in amniotic fluid in its mothers' womb, is not connected to a nurturing sustainer. It is utterly alone. No one will keep it from suffocating if liquid filled its lungs.

Breathe! It needs to breathe! Suddenly, with a flash of light, it is gone. Water and night rush back into the spot it had occupied only moments ago.

Above the surface, the thing called Castiel takes its first shivering breath, the world inhaling along with it. The quiet heart beat grows louder within its chest. The colours of morning begin to blossom in its cheeks as life floods its system. Heavy eye lids flutter over sky-blue eyes, presently sliding open and taking in the body of a man all around it. He lies alone at the edge of the water, grass and dirt digging into his bare skin. He flexes his fingers, scraping them across the ground, feeling the earth gather under his nails.

It takes a few minutes to carefully straighten out all of his limbs, shaky and untested as they are, uncurling his newly created, yet familiar form. He sits up, looking around himself for the first time, eyes sweeping over the meadow, the shimmering lake, the nearby trees and the iron-grey sky above his head. He is confused. He doesn't know how he got here. All his memories are darkness.

He stretches out a hand from where it is wrapped around his knees and idly watches as his fingers scratch lines into the soft lakeside turf. It's a sign, a letter. It's his name. Castiel. Suddenly he remembers. The shapes he created are part of a language called Enochian, his mother tongue. He was an angel. Is an angel. Was an angel... Is he still?

He reaches out with his mind, reaches beyond this body, this vessel that contains him, stretches his will towards his wings. If he still is an angel, he'll be able to feel them. His breath hitches when he senses the air behind his back start to waver and move as his wings unfold. He becomes aware of the minuscule air currents tucking at his pinions, teasing him, beckoning him to fly with them.

Castiel stands slowly. More memories flood his mind as his awareness sharpens, and suddenly he knows he doesn't deserve these wings, that he did horrible things and let even more horrible events come to pass. He also knows that somewhere, his fate is being mourned. Hearts are aching for his return. He still has a place to be, a place he belongs. He may not deserve his wings but they have been given back to him and so he uses them, beating them once, twice and letting them transport him home.

~ end ~

Thank you for reading! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK! :)


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